


Snowball Fight

by tryceratops



Series: Femslash Yuletide 2013 [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Femslash Yuletide 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 06:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryceratops/pseuds/tryceratops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>December 23 began with Darcy stealing a coffee maker and ended with her making out with Natasha Romanov. Clint kind of had something to do with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowball Fight

**Author's Note:**

> So I missed out on most of the second half of femslash yuletide because of exams and travel and family and such. I had this written for the prompt day but didn't manage to get it posted, so here it is now. I may go back and work on some more after everything calms down. We'll see. I will certainly be back for Femslash February!

It was December 23, and most people who had lives outside of work had cleared out to the holidays, either traveling to visit extended family out of town or else taking a few days to rest up before Christmas, giving themselves to get some last minute shopping and baking done, dealing with kids who were on a school vacation, all those normal things.

Of course, SHIELD wasn’t known for employing normal people so there were still plenty of people sticking around, though some were taking advantage of the holiday as an excuse for vacation to sit around in their houses and drink wine, get stoned, watch Charlie Brown and listen to John Denver and the Muppets, whatever it was that SHIELD drones did when not pushing papers or kicking ass.

Darcy, however, was looking forward for the opportunity to earn some extra cash and an excuse to not have to go home for Christmas, and work gave her two in one. Her immediate supervisor and about two thirds of her coworkers were gone though, which meant slacking off time for Darcy. She’d intended to actually work through the holidays, but then she’d decided to see if it really was possible to throw a pencil into a ceiling tile and make it stick, and then the coffee machine had broken and she’d had to go to six different floors until she found one that was both functional and unattended that she could not-so-subtly steal. And then, of course, someone had come looking for the missing coffee machine, and that someone was Clint Barton.

Darcy had spoken with him here and there in passing, she found him cool enough, he had a decent sense of humour, but she didn’t care how easily he could kick her ass, she would defend her newfound coffee machine with her life.

She had been in the process of filling the reservoir up with water when he cleared his throat behind her, causing her to turn slowly. “Hey. Can I help you with something?” She asked, not-so-subtly trying to block his view of the coffee machine with her body.

“I can’t help but notice that there are two coffee machines up here.” He was leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, looking totally casual. And also like a complete douchebag, wearing sunglasses inside.

“Well, look at that, I do. You can take that one.” She pointed to the broken one, “If you need it.”

“Is it broken?”

“Do I look like the kind of girl who would offer you a broken coffee machine?” She tried to sound both innocent and offended but it mostly just came out sarcastic. Typical Darcy.

“Yes.”

She shrugged. “You can take this one when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers.” She turned her back on him and continued pouring water into the reservoir.

“The people on 36 are very adamant that they have their coffee.”

“Yeah, and so am I. The people on 36 probably get paid a lot more than me so they can all go down to Starbucks or whatever. I claimed this one fair and square.” She poured some coffee grounds into a filter and jammed it into position before flicking the on switch. The machine immediately hummed to life. “Oh, sweet nectar of the gods, come to me.” She crouched down to watch for the coffee to start trickling into the pot.

“So you’re not just going to let me take the coffee machine.”

“I told you, over my dead body.”

“There are a couple rules against that.” He says. She turned around to look at him again, satisfied that she would indeed soon have coffee.

“Well, sucks to be you then, doesn’t it?”

Clint sighed. “What if we trade?”

“Trade?”

“Trade.”

“Trade what?” She was much more suspicious than necessary, but she was dealing with someone who snuck around for a job. Inherently untrustworthy if you asked her.

“I don’t know, what do you want?”

“A six hundred percent raise?” She grinned.

“I’m pretty sure we could buy a few dozen new coffee makers for that much.”

She snorted. “I highly doubt that. They barely pay me anything.”

“Right, well, I’m not authorized to hand out raises, and I’m pretty sure a few people would have problems with that, so what else?”

She stared at him carefully for a good long while until the switch on the coffee machine flicked, letting her know that it was done brewing. She immediately turned around to pour herself a giant cup. Once she’d filled it almost to the brim, she turned back around to face him, clutching the cup in both hands and blowing on it gently, watching him carefully as she did it.

“You’re so great with shooting and all that crap, right?”

“Yes…”

She grinned. “Does that extend to other things?”

“What kinds of other things?” Now it was Clint’s turn to be the suspicious one.

“Ooooh, I don’t know, let’s say….. snowball fights?”

“Excuse me?”

“Snowball fights.” Darcy rolled her eyes, “You know, big balls of snow, throwing them in someone’s face, stuffing them down someone’s shirt, taking sweet revenge by making iceballs and aiming at tender parts?”

“That’s specific.”

She shrugged. “I ruled the playground in sixth grade. So, can you do it?”

“I guess so, yeah.”

She grinned. “Alright. When do we start?”

“After I take the coffee maker back downstairs.”

She slammed her hand down on top of the machine and stepped in front of it. “No. You get the machine after you deliver the goods.”

“’The goods’?”

Darcy shrugged again. “According to Hollywood that’s how you Mission Impossible types talk. So, you teach me first, then you get your precious coffee maker back.”

Clint sighed. “Alright. You free now?”

Darcy grinned. “Am I ever.”

 

**********

What Clint had hoped would be a quick fifteen minute lesson in how to make a decent throw wound up taking three hours. Darcy demanded ridiculous demonstrations of what he could and could not hit with a snowball, and then she had insisted she needed “practical experience” and had started a one-on-one snowball fight with him.

The snowball fight continued until, in Darcy’s opinion, something absolutely horrible happened. In Clint’s opinion, it was one of the most hilarious things he’d seen that month.

They’d been at it for a good long while; Darcy was ducked behind a tree, her hair damp from melting snow and cheeks pink from the cold, and Clint had made himself a snow fort from which he could defend himself.

Being hidden behind the tree, building up an arsenal for her final assault on Clint, Darcy didn’t see Natasha enter the park they were fighting in. She didn’t see Natasha stop to talk to Clint, standing right in Darcy’s line of fire. She didn’t see Natasha at all until a moment after the perfectly crafted, expertly thrown snowball had left her hand, just a split second before it smashed into the back of Natasha’s head.

Darcy sat crouched, face frozen in an expression of absolute horror as she processed what she had just done. Rationally, she knew that Natasha was not everything the rumours said about her (probably), that she was a good guy, and that even if she was capable of making a man bleed from his eyes in seventeen different ways using only her pinkie, she wouldn’t use those skills on a civilian for an innocent mistake.

Of course, rationality doesn’t always win out, and Darcy spent the next few frozen seconds completely convinced she was going to die.

When the snowball hit Natasha, she froze in place, relying on Clint’s face to tell her if it was a real threat or not. It was easy enough to determine that it was no real threat, as he was trying very hard not to burst out laughing. At that point, she slowly turned around to see Darcy Lewis, frozen in place, her hand still in the position it would have been in from releasing the snowball.

Darcy opened her mouth to try to speak but all that came out was a long, cracked, “Uhhhhhhhhh…”

That was apparently the last straw for Clint as he burst out laughing. This seemed to shake Darcy out of her stupor and she quickly stood up, brushed snow off her jeans, and grabbed another snowball. She gave Natasha a weak (terrified) smile and stomped right past her, pulling the back of Clint’s jacket out stuffing the snow down his back. “Jackass,” she muttered, though none of this stopped his laughing.

“Oh my god, I don’t know who had the better expression.” He finally gasped out, sitting back and wiping tears from his eyes, apparently not caring in the least that he had a giant chunk of snow melting on his spine.

Darcy glanced at Natasha, who had her arms crossed across her chest and appeared none too pleased with Clint. At least, Darcy really hoped it was Clint that Natasha was not pleased with.

“Barton.” Natasha finally barked, drawing his attention away from his chuckling finally. “You were supposed to meet with Hill twenty minutes ago.”

“What?” He glanced at his wrist and sighed. “Shit, lost track of time.” He stood and brushed himself off, finally shaking the snowball from the back of his shirt. “I should probably go do that before she gets too mad. Sorry to bring you out here, Nat.”

“Next time you decide to screw around on the Job, at least bring your phone with you.”

He nodded and gave her a little salute. “Got it. I’ll be taking my coffee machine back now, Lewis. Don’t take it again.” He said, before jogging off.

 “I do what I want!” She shouted after him.

It took her about ten seconds of watching Clint go before she realized that she was now alone with Natasha. She slowly turned to look at the woman, hoping she wouldn’t see murderous eyes staring back at her. Luckily, surprisingly, Natasha looked almost… amused.

“Uh… sorry… about the snowball thing.” Darcy said awkwardly.

Natasha turned to look at her, a smile in her eyes. “This was your idea?”

“Uh, kind of? I stole a coffee machine and he wanted it back but I wouldn’t give it to him unless he taught me how to be the best snowball-thrower ever…”

Natasha brushed the remaining snow from her hair and laughed. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t have guessed that.”

Darcy grinned awkwardly. “So, uh… I guess, since I kind of pelted you… can I buy you a coffee or something? To make up for it?”

Natasha shook her head. “If anything I should be buying you a coffee.”

“Huh?”

“Not many people can catch me off guard.” She smiled.

“Uhhh, I wasn’t even trying.”

Natasha shrugged. “All the same.” She gestured with her head towards the exit of the park. “Come on, I know a place.”

Darcy just nodded and followed dumbly behind. This was certainly not how she’d expected the day to go.

*******

The café was small, a hole in the wall really, but it had table service. Darcy and Natasha had grabbed dimly lit a table in a back corner, and a waitress had quickly come over to take their orders. Cappuccino for Darcy, and a latte for Natasha.

“I didn’t peg you for a latte person.” Darcy said after the waitress had walked away.

“I’m full of surprises.”  Natasha replied, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

Darcy had never really spent any time at all alone with Natasha. She’d been in the same room with her when there were other people around, but they’d never spoken to each other or anything. Darcy was kind of really intimidated by her; she was gorgeous and could kick anyone’s ass. That was also pretty much the extent of Darcy’s knowledge about her.

The waitress returned with their drinks, and Darcy grabbed her cup in both hands, taking a long sip before looking up at Natasha again. “So…” She was still half-convinced that Natasha had brought her here to kill her. She knew a weakness now or something.

“You have…” Natasha gestured to her upper lip with an amused smile. Before Darcy could reach up to wipe off the foam-stache that she was apparently rocking, Natasha reached over and wiped the foam off with a finger. And then licked it off.

Darcy sat frozen, a blush creeping up her cheeks and down her chest. “Uh…. Thanks.” She managed to avoid stuttering and her voice only wavered slightly, which she counted as a win for herself. And she tried hard to not think ‘Christ, that was hot,’ which she most definitely wanted to think.

Natasha sipped her latte, watching Darcy for a moment. “So, Darcy Lewis.” She set her latte down on the table. “Is it true that you single-handedly took down Thor?”

That caught Darcy off guard. Just like everything else that had happened since Natasha had shown up. “Uh, yeah, kind of. He’d lost his powers and was off his rocker, so I tazed him… It knocked him out.” She took another sip of her cappuccino, carefully wiping any foam from her lip as she set the cup down.

“To hear him tell it, you were a formidable opponent who valiantly bested him in contest. You should ask him to tell you sometime. It would make for better bragging.”

“Does he mention that he also got mentioned by a sedative injected into his ass?”

Natasha raised one (perfectly sculpted, impossibly red) eyebrow and sipped her latte. “No, I don’t believe he’s shared that story with us.”

Darcy snickered. “He assaulted an entire ER or something. I don’t know, Jane and I got there after it had all gone down, but yeah, he totally got a needle to the butt.” She grinned.

“Well, that’s… interesting.”

“So, how about you? Is it true you can make a man bleed from the eyes in seventeen different ways using only your pinkies?”

Natasha sipped her latte and shook her head, laughing softly to herself. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Okay, good, because that was ki—“

“There are only nine ways to do that.”

“—oh.” Darcy stared into Natasha’s face suspiciously. “Are you screwing with me?”

“Maybe.”

Darcy frowned. “That’s mean.”

Natasha shrugged. “Most of what they say about me is ridiculous and highly inaccurate.”

“Are you saying they over-estimate you?”

Natasha laughed, “Oh no, usually they underestimate me.”

“…Right.” Darcy finished her cappuccino and set the empty mug on the table and leaning back in her chair. “So, what’s the most badass thing you’ve ever done?”

“Excuse me?”

“If you’re so badass, making dudes bleed from their eyes or whatever, I want to know what the single most badass thing you have ever done is.”

Natasha swirled the remains of her latte around in her cup thoughtfully, and then drained it before answering. “I’m pretty sure you don’t have clearance to know that.”

“That’s a total cop-out! And you didn’t even say it right.”

“Say what right?”

“You’re supposed to say, ‘I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’” Darcy rolled her eyes.

Natasha smiled. “Well then. I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

“Good.” Darcy nodded, satisfied. “Still sucks that you can’t tell me anything.”

“I could always show you.”

“Show me?”

Natasha leaned in. “How to make a man bleed from his eyes using only one finger.”

Darcy leaned in as well, eyes wide. “Seriously?”

Natasha shrugged. “We’d have to go somewhere else. It’s not exactly socially acceptable behaviour.”

Darcy glanced around the café. “Uh, my place is just a few blocks from here. There’s not much space, though…”

“You don’t need space for this.” Natasha smiled and stood, pulling her coat off the back of her chair and on all in one smooth motion. Darcy stood as well, quickly wrapping her scarf around her neck and then fastening her jacket over it as Natasha went to pay.

Once they were both bundled and paid up, Darcy led the way to her place, hands jammed into her jacket pockets, chin buried in her scarf. Now that they were walking she was realizing that Natasha was going to be coming to her house. She was intimidated by Natasha. Not so much by the woman’s confidence; Darcy was more than confident enough in herself and her ability to snark anything, but Natasha was a drop-dead gorgeous super spy who could kill a man with a look, and for some reason she was spending time with Darcy.

Also she’d wiped a foam-stache off Darcy’s lip and then licked it that that was quite possibly the most erotic thing that had happened to her since a very gay, drunken one night stand on labour day with a woman she’d met at a bar. It hadn’t been her first time with a woman, she’d dated a girl before she got her internship with Jane and it had been good. A more comfortable relationship than she’d ever had with a guy for sure.

But this wasn’t another student with no direction in her life, this was Natasha fucking Romanov, the most badass woman on the planet. And she was probably reading too much in to the foam-stache thing (if it was possible to read too much in to a woman almost licking something off her mouth), because Natasha was probably just trying to evaluate her or whatever, figure her out. Or something. Darcy didn’t claim to understand super spy techniques.

Natasha, to her credit, didn’t interrupt Darcy’s thoughts, seemingly content to walk along in silence. They arrived at Darcy’s building soon enough, and Darcy fumbled through her pockets to find her keys, which she awkwardly tugged out of her pocket, the keyring somehow having gotten stuck on a loose thread in her coat’s pocket. Typical. She unlocked the door to the building and held it open for Natasha. “After you.” She gestured inside. Natasha nodded and stepped inside and Darcy followed behind her, doing the same thing for her third floor apartment.

Darcy’s apartment was a small (“cozy”) one bedroom. The bathroom was right next to the entrance, and crammed against that was a tiny kitchen, which opened onto her living room, which was furnished with a tiny kitchen table and two chairs, an old couch she’d picked up online that miraculously hadn’t had bed bugs, and a TV balanced on a coffee table. The room to her bedroom was decorated with posters and clippings from various magazines.

“Welcome to my, uh, humble abode.” Darcy said, doing a quick dramatic twirl and pulling her coat off, draping it over one of her kitchen chairs. “You can toss your stuff wherever.” She looked around, “can I, uh, get you anything to drink or anything?”

“I’m fine.” Natasha smiled and unbuttoned her own coat, folding it in half and laying it carefully across the other chair. She placed her hands on her hips and looked at Darcy. Darcy stared back awkwardly, suddenly hyper aware of how weird it was to invite someone you’d really just met back to your apartment to teach you how to destroy a man’s eyes. Then again, she figured this was probably pretty standard for Natasha.

“So, uh,” Darcy looked around her apartment after the silence had stretched for a solid couple minutes. “Is there going to be… eye stabbing or something? Or was that all a lie to get my guard down?”

Natasha’s smile at that suggestion made it appear almost is if Darcy was correct. Which kind of freaked her out. But just when she was considering running screaming for the door, Natasha dropped her hands from her hips and walked forward, towards Darcy. “Telling someone you’re going to teach them how to jab someone’s eyes out isn’t exactly the best way to get their guard down.” She grabbed Darcy’s right wrist in her hand and moved around behind her, wrapping her other arm around her chest so that Natasha’s chest was pressed up to Darcy’s spine.

Darcy’s breath caught in her throat as Natasha touched her, and she tried to keep her heart from racing as she came closer, which was difficult because Jesus Christ how was this real?

“The first thing you need to know,” Natasha said softly, her breath tickling Darcy’s neck and making the whole keeping her heart from racing thing even more difficult, “is how to get someone into the position you want them.” Darcy swallowed hard and nodded as Natasha let go of her wrist and changed her grip on Darcy so she was holding her in a way an attacker may try to restrain her.

She didn’t hold tightly, but carefully explained to Darcy where she would want to grip to have the best leverage to free herself from an attacker’s grasp. She guided Darcy through the motions of breaking various holds for about half an hour. Darcy’s heartrate remained accelerated the whole time, though at least the exertion gave her a reasonable excuse for her flushed face and ragged breathing. There was something so sensual about Natasha’s hands and she was awkwardly turned on.

Once she’d mastered a couple basic hold breaks, Natasha released her and stepped back. Darcy turned around to look at her. “So now we get to the eye poking?”

Natasha smiled and took one step forward. “Alright.” Another step. “First, it’s best if your target isn’t expecting it.” Another step. Darcy felt a bit like someone’s prey. Natasha took another step forward, and there was suddenly barely an inch between them.

“Right, so, not expecting it…. I think I’m expecting it.”

“That’s where distraction comes in.”

Darcy didn’t have a chance to respond, because before she could even process what Natasha had said, they were kissing. It took Darcy only a few seconds to decide that this was way better than learning how to stab a guy’s eyes out and lean in, sliding her arms around Natasha’s waist and pulling her close. Natasha’s hands slid down Darcy’s back to her waist, and then slid under her shirt, caressing Darcy’s bare skin, making her shiver and pull back just a bit, resting her forehead against Natasha’s.

“I, uh, think you’ve… successfully distracted me.”

Natasha smirked. “I think I can do better.” And she leaned in for another kiss. 


End file.
